Walking On Thin Ice
by sleepy-san
Summary: When Voldemort returns, Harry's best friend is turned against him, new relationships are forged and old ones broken. Will they last? f/f *Chap 3 up*
1. Chapter 1

This is a femslash, meaning relationships between two girls. Don't like, don't read. Also, I'm just borrowing the characters from Harry Potter, don't sue me.  
  
  
  
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Hair of the most beautiful shade of red. Plush lips curving slowly into a smile. Eyes partly obscured by strands of hair which concealed the deep brown depths. Graceful neck, leading to the swell of breasts and curvy hips.  
  
She could not help but stare. Then, she would remember where she was and quickly look away, only to be drawn again. Magnetic. Her eyes, so thirsty, unable to resist drinking in the sight. And drink she did, savoring it like a bottle of wine, for it was just as intoxicating. Before she caught herself again. It was exceedingly improper by any standards to have such thoughts.  
  
The date it happened was obscure, but it did not matter. That it existed was more important in any case, but Hermione found herself trying to recall, if only because she hated not having everything down perfectly. It was the laugh, that much she had made certain. Soft and lilting, floating through the room.  
  
But always for him. Just like now, her face alight, but all for him. If it was any consolation, they seemed perfectly happy nestled together.  
  
Hermione laid sprawled across a couch. To any onlooker, the ceiling must have been infinitely fascinating to her as she hogged the seat. She could already feel the telltale prickling of petty tears of self-pity. Damn. Maybe she did have a little too much to drink, if her preceding poetry was any indication. Her thoughts felt as if they were pushing through caramel, and there were already signs of an impeding headache. She dimly reminded herself not to touch any beer again.  
  
"You're taking the whole couch, bloody slug."  
  
She noted that Ron was not far better off. Figured that he was not one who could hold his beer. He appeared comatose, slumped on the opposite sofa. Not particularly a conversationalist now and she found herself wishing for better company.  
  
So she pushed herself off the couch and stood unsteadily. Better alone than with a drunken slob, she decided, so she walked to the exit, carefully stepping around prone bodies. The Gryfindors had really outdone themselves this time round.  
  
The hallways were quiet. She was breaking the rules, wandering at midnight. It was surprise enough that she was not caught yet. Stealth was not a quality at the moment, and she was walking like an aimless exclamation point, screaming to be noticed. But then she only wanted a breath of fresh air, she reasoned. Certainly not against the rules, and of Filch thought so, he could very well go stuff himself.  
  
The heavy oak doors creaked like a wailing donkey, and she stepped out into the grounds. Still not caught, she noted. The gods really wanted her to have time alone. She did not get very far, just a few yards into the grass before her legs decided on a mutiny and she flopped onto the ground non too gently.  
  
The stars were out and twinkling merrily. How fitting to the mood, she thought.  
  
Curse them to hell; they were so bright that they were giving her a headache.  
  
She watched carefully as the clouds drifted and smiled triumphantly as they covered the offending glims. Finally, darkness. She was becoming grateful for the beer. Her ensnared brain ensured that thinking about Ginny took too much effort than she would bother. Forgetting was a masterful temptation.  
  
Peace at last. Just her and the grass and the heady scent and a splitting headache. Now this was life, she was sure, bonding with nature. Ron always insisted she get out more.  
  
The wailing donkey sounded again, and the doors closed heavily. She heard soft treading on the grass, and cursed eloquently in her head. Someone dropped down to the ground beside her, following her prostate posture, whom she pointedly ignore. Of course, she just had to meet a person who took absolutely no hints.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Of course, since it was Ginny, it was perfectly forgivable.  
  
"Saw you heading out here all by your lonesome self, and I just had to find out why you would dream of trading the company of my brother to the company of the stars," Ginny chuckled. It worsened her headache tenfold, and she found herself even wishing for Ginny to leave.  
  
"Came out here to do a little thinking huh?"  
  
When there was no reply, Ginny turned to her side, observing her carefully.  
  
"You're worse off than I thought. Let's get you back," Ginny decided, and tried to pull her to her feet. She stubbornly refused, muttering as she pouted petulantly, if unconsciously.  
  
Ginny laughed again, and the sound threatened to tear her head apart. She just wanted to be alone, damnit. It was not as if she was wishing for a horde of half naked ladies to dance on her lap. It should not have been so hard; she frowned, as the tears threatened to spill again.  
  
"Fine. You aren't bulging, but I'm not leaving you here alone, so you're stuck with me tonight."  
  
Damn.  
  
Personally, Hermione could think of no better way of spending the night than having to endure the company of the girl she was mooning over and could never shut her mouth for a minute if her life depended on it. And it seem as if a pitchfork was poking her brain.  
  
There was a brief silence, before Ginny could no longer resist. "So, I heard rumors that you are interested in Ron," Ginny decided to jump straight into the juicier gossips. Her efforts at keeping the silence, if only momentarily, had to be commended, if anything. Hermione was secretly glad that she did not bother to make the customary small talk-it would have taken far too long.  
  
A snort graced Ginny's question. Nothing more needed to be said.  
  
Ginny giggled. "If it means anything, I perfectly understand." She then leaned closer, and Hermione had to bite back a groan. "So, anyone in mind?" she said in conspiring tones. "Because you know, there are some pretty cute guys around here. Of course, most are already taken, but you only need to look hard enough. There are quite a few in Gryfindor actually, but only if Seamus is your type," at that she giggled a little more. "You should have seen the way he was mooning over Harry. I swear, he could have at least tried to be a little less obvious. But anyway, Dean seems interested, I think. I wasn't supposed to tell; Parvarti noticed him looking at you all the time," she said. "And I think I'm the only one talking around here," she finally concluded.  
  
Ginny propped herself on her elbows as she looked at Hermione. "You're being too quiet. Is anything wrong?" she sighed. "Love a touchy topic huh. But surely there is someone special. You study all the time, but I'm sure there are other things going in that head of yours."  
  
Hermione remained silent, the possibilities running through her mind. She wanted and needed closure, and she could certainly get it now. But did she want to? Or dared to?  
  
"Love's a bitch," Hermione finally settled on a decision.  
  
Ginny wrinkled her forehead at that cryptic statement.  
  
"Always one inch too far."  
  
"Oh," Ginny said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was not sure if she entirely understood. Hermione could imagine the gears turning in her head. She briefly wondered if she was giving away more than she intended to.  
  
"Ah well, bitch or not, it feels like the bloody Antarctic, and I don't think you're going anywhere, so I guess I'm stuck here tonight," Ginny said. She scooted closer to Hermione, and in one swift motion, snuggled into her side. "If I get a cold, I'm blaming you."  
  
How sweet.  
  
Soon, Hermione felt her eyelids falling shut as well, the effects of the beer finally catching up with her. It was so comfortable. She fell asleep under the stars, her love safely in her arms.  
  
  
  
  
  
Like or hate? Please feel free to give me your opinions. Flame me if you will, but only on the way I write, not for the relationships in this story. 


	2. Chapter 2

Took awhile for me to finally sit down and write, but here's the second chapter. Once again, a girl/girl pairing here, although not quite at the moment. Don't like, don't read.  
  
  
  
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The sunlight streamed through the windows, where the curtains were drawn, to illuminate Hermione's face. Before long her eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing a vacant gaze. She sat up with an inperceptible groan, disorientated and disgruntled.  
  
The sun hang overhead-it was nearing afternoon, Hermione deduced. Her head throbbed with her debut hangover. Casting a quick glace around the dormitory, she realised she was alone save Lavender, whose chest was still rising and falling in steady breathes.  
  
She quickly conjured one of the handier spells she had learnt from Fred Weasly. Lightness diffused from her stomach to her head, before dispersing along with the headache. She felt better now, but barely.  
  
It was extremely silent. Hermione had the faint suspicion that most were still dead to the world, following the wild antics the night before, warranted by the claiming of the Quidditch champion.  
  
She sat on the bed, where the sunlight created shifting shadows, unmoving and feeling listless. For reasons unknown, her heart weighed heavily in her chest.  
  
Her attention shifted as the door was flung open on protesting hinges, and Parvarti burst into the dormitory with a flourish. She looked as she did every other day, impeccable and impossibly animated. Hermione shifted her gaze. Ginny was close behind, silent but smiling. Their radiance was perfectly misplaced in the room.  
  
"Hermione! Good to know that someone else is awake," Parvarti chirped. Her upbeatness was duly ignored, and Hermione merely regarded her silently. Words were not her forte at that point in time-she felt much inclined not to speak.  
  
"Hermione," Ginny smiled in a slightly more serene approach. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to sleep out, but I brought you back in anyway." She tilted her head. "You were out like a light, and not being a good hot water bottle. And you should get out more." A smile tugged at her lips. "All that studying is making you heavy."  
  
Hermione swiftly rearranged her face into a scowl. It only served to widen Ginny's grin. She suddenly looked altogether crafty. "Never knew you drooled in your sleep. How adorable."  
  
Hermione lifted her nose in a defiant gesture, and Ginny chuckled. Beneath her air of petulance, she did a brief self-review. A perfect catchphrase, she reasoned. But she could not help feeling a slight pang and singular wave of self-consciousness.  
  
Ginny had her back turned to her, and she quickly weighed her options. In for a penny, in for a pound-she decided to take things to the end. The pillow arched seamlessly through the air and bounced off Ginny's head. She whirled around in a flash, and, eyes gleaming, sent the pillow sailing back with a venomous throw. Hermione deftly evaded, and the pillow hit the headrest with a soft thud.  
  
A war cry, and Parvarti descended upon Lavender, assaulting mercilessly. Lavender spluttered awake, only to see the pillow crashing down on her head. She took an admirably short time to recover, and retaliated fiercely. Delighted screams, and when some were Ginny's as she was enveloped in the entanglement as well, Hermione decided she had to leave and covertly extricated herself from the intricacy she started to soothe her frazzled nerves.  
  
Hermione found herself trudging down the quiet passageways. Somewhere along the way, on her way to lunch, Harry and Ron had pulled her with a preemptive shush, and, huddled in a tight circle, informed of an overheard conversation of the possible return of Voldemort. They wanted to investigate; Hermione could not seem to bring herself to really bother this time round.  
  
Potions later that day was worse than it had ever been. Snape took great joy in pointing out the errant ways of the Gryffindors. Harry had muttered about his jealousy of their house winning the Quidditch cup-Hermione strongly suspected it was true. No opportunites to detain Harry though, so he chose Hermione instead when her partner spilled a bottle. As he spat angry words, he had bent until he was looking Hermione straight in the eye. She remained unfazed, unflinching as she stared back right back.  
  
Detention was carried out nonchalantly till ten. Dean hurried back to bed to claim sleep after cleaning test tubes, but Hermione took her books and remained in the common room to study. The OWLS were near, but somewhere in her heart she knew there were other reasons. The clock struck hourly, but she lost count. During one of the chimings, Ginny came down with a steaming cup of coffee, in only her nightgown. She set the cup down with a smile and whispered for Hermione not to stay too late. She then stood, slightly expectantly, but Hermione did not say a word, so she silently made her way back to her room again. The coffee was left untouched.  
  
  
  
Like or hate? Feel free to leave a review or drop an email. 


	3. Chapter 3

This is a story depicting a relationship between two girls. Don't like, don't read.  
  
  
  
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Occasionally Hermione would wonder about Parvati and Lavender. The shared giggles and exchanged looks, and Hermione would feel that she of all people should understand. She could not help but feel closer to them-maybe they of all people would understand as well.  
  
She had made an effort to talk to them, and it was becoming clearer and clearer to her. So glaringly obvious to her, and she found herself questioning the belatedness of the discovery. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could give it a try.  
  
Life was a bitch. The next day, Seamus had walked to her, face aghast. At her raised eyebrow, he had told her the news, and she ran to the hospital room to see for herself, but visitors were not allowed. But it was confirmation enough. So Voldemort was back, and Hermione cursed his timing. She would personally face him if she could-she could not have cared less. Life was an absolute bitch.  
  
The school was thrown into chaos, like it always did every year when there was the faintest whiff of Voldemort returning, and Hermione found herself laughing at the predictability of the situation. Just like sheep, everyone scurrying for cover. Somewhere in the midst of the panic someone bothered to question the reason for Parvati and Lavender being in the grounds in the dead of the night. It was anybody's guess, but Hermione thought that she could hazard one.  
  
Harry and Ron were right, of course, and Ron took great pains to remind her that they had wanted to investigated earlier and perhaps, could very well have prevented the attack. Hermione could not help but feel a pang of guilt, and red hot anger at Voldemort for hurting her increasingly important friends. They had plans to be involved, how predictable, and Hermione could already picture the whole scenario in her head. They asked her along of course, and she complied, and realized she was culpable of predictability as well. The forest, Ron had declared, was the key. The creature who had attacked had to be from there. Hermione rolled her eyes at the glorious revelation.  
  
They made plans to meet in the night. Ginny was there too, in the deserted common room at midnight, and sent Harry off with a good luck kiss and a whispered "good luck", and Hermione realized she was finding the sight of Harry harder to bear. No good luck kiss for Hermione of course, just an encouraging smile which was hardly enough. They left quickly, for which Hermione was grateful for-she did not feel like staying in the room much longer, not when Ginny was still there. Then she realized that she did not feel up to investigating either, but there was no turning back. Hermione was a woman of her words.  
  
They crept down the hallways, led only by the moonlight filtering through the window. The three were closely huddled together, fighting for every inch of the invisibility cloak, and with practiced ease, moved without a sound. The front doors were a problem of course, and they waited with bated breath as they pushed out into the cold. No Filch and Snape came running with eyes gleaming, for which they were immensely glad, and Hermione hurriedly stepped out of the suffocating cluster, brushing her robes off.  
  
Find, engage and subdue, Ron had said was the plan. Hermione gave him points for optimism. They gripped their wands and wandered to the edge of the forest. Facing the wall of trees and darkness, Harry warned them to stay together, and they stepped in with no small amount of trepidation.  
  
At some point in time, several bestial cries ripped through the stillness nearby, and Ron whirled around in blind panic. Retreat, report and fight another day, he affirmed his life motto, and Harry and Hermione quickly agreed. It was far too dark to fight, and there appeared to be more than one creature after all; they had bitten off more than they could chew.  
  
With flurrying feet, they hastily retreated. It was only when Harry uncovered his invisibility cloak, prepared to dive back into the safety of the castle, that he realized that Hermione was gone. Suppression abandoned, Harry and Ron erupted into full blown panic. They scurried back, scouring in the darkness. No success after an hour, and they resignedly decided to ask for help, fearing the worst.  
  
McGonagall was informed first of all, and before long every teacher in Hogwarts was assembled in her office. Snape did not take to them kindly, taking every opportunity to snap at their feet, until Dumbledore told him to stop non too gently-they were already pale with worry.  
  
"Now I wonder why you kids have such a foolish notion of taking things into your own hands," were the words by McGonagall. A large number of points would be deducted from Gryffindor for sure, effectively offseting the victory of the Quidditch Cup.  
  
The teachers discussed their next actions, and some were quickly dispatched to continue the search; after all, it was best that Hermione was found as quickly as possible. Dumbledore ordered Harry and Ron to be taken back to their rooms. Harry searched Dumbledore's face for comfort and found none this time-he looked stern, with lips tightly pressed into a line; it was not mild amusement his eyes were twinkling with.  
  
Not a word was said as McGonagall led them back to their rooms-an indication of the extent of trouble they were in. Punishments were put on hold, but Harry had a dreadful sense of foreboding.  
  
Ginny was still waiting in the common room when they entered. McGonagall gave no comments, but it was clear she was aware of Ginny's involvement as well. She left with a stern glance and a warning for them to get into bed.  
  
Hermione's absence did not escape Ginny's keen eyes. "Where's Hermione?" were the first words she uttered, and when she received no reply, her knees went weak and she slumped back into her seat. Harry had no awareness of his actions, numb as he was, but he would later realized he had retreated back to bed as curtly proposed by McGonagall. He could not fall asleep of course, and tossing in bed offered no relief.  
  
He laid in bed, eyes cast at the ceiling. It was the first time one of their plans failed so miserably. For once, they were made to face the consequences-it shattered Harry's once enforced sense of invincibility. So loss in contemplation, that Harry did not notice the shadow that flitted across his bed, disappearing into the darkness. When he did notice, it was far too late-the drapery was ripped open and the figure pounced upon him with the ferocity of a beast. Its long hair enclosed Harry's vision, trapping him in a blanket where there was no reprieve. It clawed mercilessly at Harry's flailing arms and legs, and Harry was defenseless and could do nothing but shield his face. The entire process was silent, until Harry finally found the sense to scream for help.  
  
His roommates awoke immediately. A spell was cast and light flooded the room, but the creature did not cease. It was only when a chorus of voices sounded, did the creature stop, but not without a threatening snarl. As it slumped to the floor, stunned under the spell, there was a unison of gasps.  
  
The news spread like wildfire. Neville pounded down the hallways, running as fast as his legs would carry him. McGonagall was in her office when the door was flung open a mere five minutes later. Under her inquiring gaze, he announced, between rasping breathes, that Hermione was back. 


End file.
